Mr Monk Makes A Sacrafice
by DarkAngelSnapeLover
Summary: Monk is forced to make a sacrafice if he wants to follow the rules.


Mr. Monk Makes A Sacrifice

"Good morning, Monk, Natalie," the captain smiled. They sat down and were handed a file, but both were given to Natalie. "Those are the new budget plans for the year, and the latest employee manuals. Natalie, I'm sure that Monk can fill you in on the details later."

"What are you talking about?" Monk asked.

"Andrean, you are officially the only person other than the guy who edited the pamphlet to ever read the actual manual and take it to heart. You called out a volunteer for breaking the rules once, for God's sake," the captain said sternly. Monk made a slight nod, then accepted his now clean folder, thanks to Natalie. "By the way, you must take in a volunteer next week. Natalie, you get to help Monk show the kid the ropes. I think it's an older kid, but you never know what they mean by those things. There aren't any cases today, so you can go home."

"So, you called us all the way here for a pamphlet? Captain, I thought better of you," Monk sighed, leaving. Natalie, who was new at this, had no idea what to say, so she just followed Monk to the car.

"So, Mr. Monk, are there any rules I should know about?" she asked at the first red light.

"No, at least not right now," he whispered. He was reading the file very carefully. When Natalie pulled out, he ended up dropping the folder, along with the budget packet. "Damn it!" Monk groaned, picking up everything with his tweezers. "Where's the disinfectant? Where is it?"

"Mr. Monk, in the dash," Natalie sighed, pulling the car into a parking space along the road. It took them five minutes to get everything back together and disinfected. They drove the rest of the way home peacefully, until they ate lunch together. Monk pulled out the folder again only to find that the liquid part of the disinfectant had smeared some of the pages.

"No!" Monk groaned, putting his head in his hands while Natalie put down her fork to look at him.

"You can get my pages," Natalie offered.

"Those are yours, Natalie. The captain gave them to you for you to keep on file, and now my set is ruined," Monk whispered. Natalie sighed and stood.

"I'm giving you mine," she said sternly.

"No! It's not the same, Natalie," he sighed, accepting the pages. Natalie took the smeared ones and put them in her folder, just throwing them in. Monk groaned and went to the folder, putting them into their proper place while Natalie ate, trying to think of how to get him out of this phase. Once he sat down, she tried distracting him from the pamphlet that he picked up again like it was a great mystery novel.

"Mr. Monk, how do you feel about the volunteer?" Natalie asked.

"Good," he whispered, flipping another page as carefully as possible. He then made a smirked of satisfaction, but then his serious reading face came back on. Natalie sighed as she took her plate to the kitchen. She came back out to see him still reading the pamphlet.

"The captain's right, you know? Besides, there probably aren't any changes," Natalie smirked. Monk held up his hand and shook his head.

"There are. The parking regulations changed for the lower level employees, and for assistants who work for the company. I'm a part of the company, and you are my assistant, therefore you must park where they tell you, which is in the back lot."

"The back lot!" Natalie exclaimed, grabbing her pamphlet. Monk pointed out the page. "This is ridiculous, Mr. Monk! I have to get out quick at four to pick up my daughter! I'm sure the captain can let me keep my spot."

"It is above him, but…do as you please," he said suddenly. He then began eating his food meticulously, or like normal. Natalie scoffed as she put the pamphlet into her purse.

"I have to go pick up our dry cleaning. Are you okay here alone?" she asked. He did not say a word. She sighed and picked up her keys, walked to her car, and drove to the dry cleaners. She then received a call from the captain. One of the volunteers had started early, and he needed her and Monk to get there soon. Natalie accepted, more by force than choice, and hurried back to Mr. Monk, who unwillingly left sorting through the colored candies she had recently purchased.

At the headquarters, Natalie and Monk met a researcher named Sheldon. He was in his thirties, so it seemed, and Natalie was shocked to see someone of that age volunteering at the police station, yet he fit for some reason. Natalie couldn't tell at first, but as Monk showed him some of the offices, he began showing his idiosyncrasies. He was obsessive compulsive, and very stern about it, and his knowledge. Sheldon 'had not yet had lunch', as he put it, so Natalie showed him the sandwich shop where many investigators would go. He ate meticulously, around the entire sandwich then from the original front to the original back, and he continuously through out random facts. Natalie merely nodded, but Monk tried to converse with him…for a very short time.

"Oh! You worked on a case with the homeless once, or am I mistaken?" Sheldon asked.

"You are not," Monk replied.

"Through some research I did in statistics and analysis, my colleagues and I came to the theoretical concept that they…create their own gravy. Again, are we mistaken?"

"No, they do make their own gravy."

"That is rather repulsive, if you mind me saying so. What exactly do they make it with? The usual packets of gravy that many mothers use today are not within their availability, or so I thought. Did you discover the source during your time investigating the homicide?"

"I did not. I discovered this when they were invited to dinner with me and they brought their own gravy, as a gift to the host."

"Ah, they have manners? Really? The ones at the market I use are not the friendliest. I heard from one of the cashiers that they attacked an Asian man and he had to use some sort or martial arts to defend himself. I wonder what type he used. The Chinese have karate, and the Koreans have their own form, as do the Japanese, though the Vietnamese do not. If he used martial arts and he looked Asian, then he could in fact be from an island and could have learned his skills in a class offered at the YMCA. Have you ever been there? I find their public pools quite repulsive. I once watched a man urinate inside the pool," Sheldon spoke.

"Ew, ew, ew," Monk groaned. "Could you stop talking about disgusting things? Could you?" Monk bellowed. He was annoyed, and it showed. Natalie merely didn't say a word, until she looked to her watch.

"I've enjoyed spending time with both of you, but I have to leave soon to pick up my daughter," Natalie whispered, kind of afraid to speak. Monk rarely found anyone intelligent to be annoying, but Sheldon had pushed his buttons.

"Sure, Natalie. Who is your daughter?" Sheldon asked.

"I'll tell you in the car," Natalie replied, and she did. In the car, they had a one way conversation about her daughter's name, Julie. Sheldon informed her of meanings, translations, and family history, and Natalie was bored with every piece of information. She gladly left them at the headquarters while she picked up Julie, who she sent back home due to another rule that Monk had informed her: no extended stays of children within active departments, which included homicide.

Natalie returned to work and sat in the captain's office because he called her there. Monk was seeing off Sheldon, who waved to Natalie on his way out. Monk entered the office and collapsed into a couch. The captain smiled.

"Too much for you, Adrean?" he asked.

"Oh my God, that was the worst experience of my entire life," Monk groaned. "What else do you want, Captain?"

"Well, since you informed me of the rules in the pamphlet about the parking issue, I decided to speak with you both on the subject. You both arrive in the same car most of the time, meaning that the car would go by the most important person arriving in the car, being you, Adrean. Therefore, the parking issue is solved. You may stay where you are."

"Are you sure, Sir? I thought it would go through the name listed on the car, which would be Natalie's," Monk interjected.

"But, I need to park where I'm at so that I can leave easier. You know it's crazy when I leave here, and I can't leave Julie wondering where I am," Natalie retorted.

"Well, if you want to be honest, put the car in your name on the parking certificate," the captain tried.

"But that goes by whoever's name is on the paperwork, which would be Natalie's unless she changes the entire car to my name," Monk replied. The captain smiled.

"The put the car in your name, but as a gift to Natalie, or…an amenity for her being an employee of you, which is possible. Are you willing to pay for her car?" Captain asked. Monk sighed.

"You have to if you want to play by the rules," Natalie grinned. Monk groaned and put his hands back over his faced and lay back down. After a moment, he uncovered his face.

"Okay," he groaned. Monk would now have to sacrifice money from his disinfectant budget just to pay three-fifty a month on Natalie's Grand Cherokee. In exchange for his honest, he 'accidentally' picks up Natalie's loose change every time he's at the house. She still has no idea.


End file.
